Make Me a Liar
by ournoisyhearts
Summary: Sebastian just really, really wants to make out with Hunter. It isn't even a thing; honestly. Huntbastian.


**I just really wanted Hunter and Sebastian to make out in a movie theater and that didn't even happen. I'm sorry.**

* * *

Sebastian doesn't "do" dates. He doesn't take a fellow member of the male gender out to the movies just for the hell of it, or because, god forbid, he _likes_ them. And he surely doesn't stick around if there's no promise for something _more_ later. He just isn't that kind of guy. Relationships and romanticism aren't Sebastian Smythe's thing; no, he prefers the quick-in and quick-out, one-time-around routine. No strings attached. It makes everything easier that way.

So really, he has no clue why he's still sitting in a half-crowded, darkened movie theater while Hunter Clarington snores quietly at his side.

He hadn't even really _asked Hunter out_, per say. It was more a culmination of the events of the past few months, which mostly included healthy dosages of flirting and persistent sexual innuendos after Hunter had insisted that he wasn't "even remotely bi-curious." Their little outing (because it most definitely is _not_ a date, and Sebastian refuses to call it that) finally resulted from a lost bet on Hunter's end, after an embarrassingly bad prank involving Nick, Jeff, and an alarming amount of feathers.

That doesn't mean that Sebastian hasn't been planning on making the most out of his winnings, however. He isn't blind- Hunter is hot, and talented to boot, and Sebastian _knows_ that the straight-boy image can't be anything but an act. Hunter's impeccably styled hair and shimmying dance moves scream otherwise (not that Sebastian is stereotyping or anything; that would be a bit hypocritical, after all).

Thus, he'd won Hunter's agreement to accompany him for the evening, and Sebastian had paid the absurdly high ticket price at the door for them to get into the seven o'clock showing of _Iron Man 3_ in hopes of watching shit getting blown up for one-quarter of the time and then making out for the rest. He was confident that said making out wouldn't be a problem- Sebastian is a very persuasive guy when he wants to be.

Unfortunately, it looks as if there won't be any mouth-to-mouth action happening anytime soon. Hunter is knocked out cold on Sebastian's shoulder, his eyes shut and his mouth propped open slightly as he snuffles in his sleep and nuzzles into Sebastian's jacket. It should be completely frustrating (Sebastian is essentially getting cock-blocked by a _nap_, of all things), and had it been absolutely anyone else, Sebastian would have stormed out of the theater a half hour ago, grumbling in irritation about the spot of drool on his collar.

But Hunter happens to look irritatingly adorable, with his normally perfectly-schooled features relaxed with sleep and his hair sticking up in one spot from being rubbed against the seat back. Robert Downey Jr. is busy flying around and shooting at things on the screen in front of them, and each flash of light scatters across Hunter's features in a way that has for some reason caught Sebastian's attention. He watches, rapt, as Hunter continues to doze against his side, and has to forcibly resist the urge to reach out to smooth his expression over as the boy's nose wrinkles up unconsciously.

No one has the right to look so...so _cute_. It's pissing Sebastian off.

(Not to mention the distinct _lack_ of making out that's happening right now.)

Hunter finally stirs just as Tony Stark is saving the lovely Pepper Potts for the umpteenth time, his eyes fluttering open and the most adorable expression of confusion settling across his face. He furrows his eyebrows and seems to take a moment to adjust to his surroundings, his eyes widening once he realizes that his face has been pressed into Sebastian's shoulder for a solid hour and a half, and his eyes fall guiltily to the visible spot of drool on the boy's coat.

"Shit, sorry," he whispers.

Sebastian grunts.

"How much did I miss?"

Another grunt.

"I'm _sorry_, I didn't think I was that tired-"

Someone hisses a pointed _shhh!_ from the row behind them, and Hunter snaps his mouth shut before turning around to glare pointedly. When he moved to face forward again, his fingers are tapping anxiously against the armrest between them, and Sebastian has resolutely glued his eyes to Gwyneth Paltrow's face (even though he has absolutely no idea what's happening, because he's been _watching Hunter sleep for the entire movie_. Jesus Christ.)

He's officially losing it.

Hunter doesn't attempt to speak again until the credits have rolled and the two of them are making their way out of the theater to Sebastian's car. His hands are shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched like he _wants_ to say something, but won't, his eyes continuously darting back and forth between the ground and Sebastian's neutral expression.

"Why didn't you just ditch me?" he asks finally.

Sebastian pauses with his hand on the door handle and calmly raises a brow over the hood of the car towards Hunter. "Someone had to take your sorry ass back to Dalton," he replies coolly.

"I got drool on your shirt," Hunter states.

"And you wheezed your most likely germ-infested breath against my neck for the better part of an hour, but hey, it's totally cool," Sebastian mutters, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Hunter huffs noisily and narrows his eyes, a hint of challenge leaking into his gaze.

"You could have just woken me up."

"And face your wrath? No thanks, bud. I live with you, and I've seen you sleep-deprived and cranky enough times for one life, thanks."

Hunter stares back at him closely, as if he's searching for something, but Sebastian refuses to give him the satisfaction, his eyebrows merely lifting in challenge.

And then Hunter is stalking back around to Sebastian's side of the car and pushing right up into his space, his body encroaching upon the taller boy's until he is pressed against the side of the car door, his neck straining as he glances down at Hunter in surprise. The fellow Warbler boasts an expression of intensity that has previously only been reserved for rehearsals and competitions, and it almost scares Sebastian a little bit.

"You let me sleep through an entire movie. On your shoulder. After you paid for it," Hunter says slowly.

"And?" Sebastian retorts.

"And you didn't try to wake me up. Or push me off. _I got drool on your jacket_," Hunter stresses.

"I don't really see what-"

"You brought me to a movie and then didn't abandon me even though we didn't make out at _all_."

Hunter's eyes are now wide with wonder, and Sebastian wants to scowl and protest, because yeah, that really doesn't sound like him. Not one bit. But Hunter is looking up at him in a way that resembles something a lot like...well, Sebastian doesn't know _what_ it's like, but it sends warmth curling in his stomach and makes him feel really, really good.

"You were totally watching me sleep," Hunter concludes, a smug grin spreading across his face. "And you _enjoyed it._"

A groan escapes Sebastian's lips at that, and he tries desperately not to let the embarrassment at being caught show on his features. With a roll of his eyes, he mumbles, "I swear to god, Clarington-"

His words get cut off when Hunter suddenly yanks him down with a hand around the back of his neck and smashes their lips together, their mouths colliding as Sebastian lets out a surprised _mmf!_ and grabs onto the boy's waist to steady himself. Hunter's mouth is warm and pliant as Sebastian finally, _finally_ catches on and kisses him back, his fingers curling against Hunter's hips and his teeth scraping the swell of his bottom lip in a way that has Hunter releasing a breathy sound and parting his lips slightly.

When they pull away a long minute later, Hunter's mouth is red and his pupils are dilated, but there is a smirk on his face that radiates _come hither_ in such a way that Sebastian's mouth seems to run dry.

"I think there's another showing at nine forty-five," Hunter announces, and Sebastian's hands tighten around the other boy's hips as he reels him in, planting another purposeful kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Fine, but you're paying this time," he announces as he pulls back, shooting a look of distaste down at the wet spot on his shoulder. "_And_ you're doing my laundry for me. Asshole."


End file.
